


Beginning of the Fray

by Vitreous_Humor



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crusades, Domesticity, M/M, Romance, horse theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25666201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vitreous_Humor/pseuds/Vitreous_Humor
Summary: Nicolo thought the other man hadn't heard him until he raised his hand and two arrows came slashing through the air. One thudded hard into Nicolo's throat, the other into his chest. As he hit the ground, the light going out, he thought that the nameless soldier had such a nice laugh.-It takes Nicky and Joe a century or so to figure things out.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 6
Kudos: 184





	Beginning of the Fray

Nicky didn't remember the first time, but Joe did, even slightly drunk on raki.

“You took my horse, you piece of donkey shit!”

“What? No, I never did, I was no horse thief. I would never.”

“Then what happened to my Luqaimat, eh? Explain that!”

“Your... dumpling?”

“Luqaimat, sixteen hands tall, pale like the full moon, sweet as palm sugar. I raised her from a foal in-”

“Oh, you mean my Luna?”

A pause.

“She was a good horse. I got her off the field at Anti ... oh.”

“You miserable son of a goat, I died twice before I made it back to camp!”

“Oh. Sorry.”

–

Nicky absolutely remembered the second time.

Joe caught him rubbing his shoulder one morning after the action in Texas, staring up at the dawning sky. The skin under his hand was perfect, unmarked, no sign of a killing wound at all.

 _The sky's so big here,_ he thought, _like it used to be. It used to be that the sky moved, but the world was fixed. Now the world moves, and we're the ones standing still._

A hand landed over his, almost the same size, warm, calloused, and as familiar as his own

“Still recovering, old man?” asked Joe.

Nicky leaned his cheek against Joe's hand.

“Thinking.”

“About?”

“Hm. Jerusalem. 1099.”

“A bad one,” Joe observed. It had been, for him, but time inevitably turned the battles, good and bad, into hatch marks on the wall, the sorrow and rage eroded away.

“Yes. You and that ax. Where did you get it?”

A sharp flash of white teeth. Joe brushed Nicky's hand away, his strong fingers digging into the unmarked skin and flesh of his shoulder.

“From some Frank who was slower than I was,” he said. “I caught you looking at it as if you wanted it... so I gave it to you.”

Nicky breathed into the rough mauling of Joe's fingers, remembering that judder of Frankish steel biting into bone, the nearly simultaneous bolt of wonder as he looked into the face of his killer. Joe had been a wonder. Still was. Always was.

“I did want it. Very badly,” he said, and he turned and kissed Joe almost shyly. He had always been shy of miracles.

-

The third time, they had sort of figured each other out, and they met in a small valley east of the Euphrates, contested territory on the edge of Edessa. After a vicious skirmish in the hills, Nicolo was the only one left standing, and he chose to stand at the narrow mouth of the valley, his sword drawn and on his feet because his horse had been killed underneath him.

He saw the small band arrive at the stream at the foot of the pass, watched impassively as one rider broke from the rest to canter up to his position. With dim surprise, he recognized the soldier who had killed him in Jerusalem just ten years before, and he thought the man recognized him as well. He wondered why that warmed him, and he shook it off.

“There's nothing for you in this valley,” he said in Arabic, making the other man flinch.

“You talk like someone gave an ape a man's tongue,” the man said decent French. “What kind of nothing are you defending with your sword drawn?”

Nicolo hesitated.

“The survivors from the supply train,” he said. “Camp followers, children. Some wounded.”

The man's hand tightened on the hilt of his scimitar – no ax? Nicolo found himself disappointed – and then relaxed again.

“Crusaders lie,” the man said, and Nicolo shrugged.

“I'm not.”

“Tell me you won't lie to me.”

Nicky looked up at him curiously, taking in the serious line of the man's mouth, the tense set of his shoulders.

“I never will,” he said, startled.

The man snorted, but Nicolo never would.

“Stay out of my way, crusader,” he said, wheeling his horse around.

“No,” Nicolo replied without thinking, and he thought the other man hadn't heard him until he raised his hand and two arrows came slashing through the air. One thudded hard into Nicolo's throat, the other into his chest. As he hit the ground, the light going out, he thought that the nameless soldier had such a nice laugh.

-

Nicolo's faith swelled and ebbed like the tide. Sometimes he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his uncanny gift was a godly thing, and that God had made him to end lives on the battlefield. Other times, he was empty, and no matter how often he cried into the darkness, he never even heard an echo back.

There was a joke back in Genoa – Christ, how long had it been since he had gotten home? Was it still home? – that said it was what was inside that mattered, and that was why you needed to keep it on the inside. The joke lost some of its humor after the guts he had seen spilled from Tarsus to Ascalon, but it was still good advice. He kept his guts mostly on the inside, he fought, he killed, and over and over again, he killed or was killed by the man whose name he finally learned in 1278.

It was Antioch again, and Nicolo knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were going to lose. The Mamluks had taken most of the region, and Outremer had been shattered. If they were lucky, they would only be forced back to Tripoli rather than wiped out entirely.

It was the second clash of the day when he sighted a familiar standard across the field, and, ignoring the arrows flying overhead, Nicolo stood up almost straight in his stirrups.

“Yusuf Al-Kaysani!” he roared, and after a moment, there came a startled bellow in return.

“What?”

“My name is Nicolo! Come find me!”

Whatever response Yusef made was lost as the Crusaders' line shattered like glass, and they were overrun. Nicolo went down fighting, and as some Muslim cavalry officer tore out his throat with the slash of a light spear, he found himself disappointed that it wasn't Yusef.

–

“But you were there when I woke up,” Nicky said, and Joe cackled.

“Of course I was. I had to find out who the madman shouting my name across the battlefield was.”

Nicky gave him a fond look, stirring the risotto slowly as Joe minced the chives. He was as handy with a chef's knife as he was with a scimitar, and Nicky felt rather smug that he had gotten so lucky.

“That's a lie. I talked to your men, you know. You were already asking about me, and you absolutely knew my name before Antioch.”

“I told my men you were mine to kill,” Joe said dreamily. “I told them that you were an evil Christian spirit come up from the sea, and that it was my destiny to end your menace.”

“Wow,” Nicky said, still stirring. “That sounds exciting.”

“It was! We were so young then, so passionate.”

“About killing each other.”

“That too,” Joe said with a laugh. “We learned better, eventually.”

He had learned to pick his battles. He had learned the world was bigger than he had ever dreamed, and that God was kinder than he had been brought up to believe, if more quiet. With Joe, he learned to dance and to breathe, and when he faltered, he learned that Joe was there to steady him. He learned halberds and zweihanders, Winchesters and Kalashnikovs. He had learned to love Joe, and Joe had learned to love him, and every day, they learned it better.

“We did,” was all Nicky said. “Dinner's done.”

“I love you too,” Joe said with a grin. “Let's eat.”

**Author's Note:**

> -I'm not really in this fandom, but I really, really wanted to write this one.
> 
> -Ideally, you let risotto rest for a few minutes after you take it off the heat before you eat it.


End file.
